My two-year stroke anniversary was April 3, 2012. The date
loomed large because of two comments I heard in early recovery: A relative in
healthcare predicted my rehabilitation would take two years. And my GP told me
to ignore people who gave timeframes for recovery, then proceeded to say I
could experience improvements for up to two years.
Today I have minimal functionality in my left hand; a slow,
uneven gait; central nervous pain and discomfort from spasticity. I'm
continuing with rehab and remaining hopeful, while adapting to the idea of
lifelong disability.
My wedding anniversary is also in April. Two years ago on
April 9, I moved from the stroke ward to the rehab unit and prevailed upon the
nurses to let my husband sleep in the empty bed beside me to celebrate our 16th
year of marriage.
My husband remembers this as a hopeful time. Being moved to
rehab was "a sign of progress," he says. I remember him visiting me
after a full day of work – bringing me freshly-laundered clothes, tucking me
in. I imagine him going home afterward to eat a late dinner alone. He lived on
Panda Express during that time, gave into a few tears. I have tried to discover
the details of this story from his point of view. Because it is as much his
story as mine. His life has changed as much as mine.
A therapist from the rehab unit expressed surprise that my
husband has stayed with me. "Do you know of spouses who leave?" I asked
with equal surprise.
"Yeah," she said. "They can't deal with
it."
Thank you, Ian, for vowing to stand by my side and
continuing to do so in sickness and in health.
 |
| Ian and Marcelle – April 9, 1994 |
